


Aquarius

by minhonew



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-03 18:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6621004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minhonew/pseuds/minhonew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Aquarius in three words: Smart, Eccentric, Aloof.</p><p>In which Zayn has a massive crush on Harry Styles, an Aquarius boy. He is fascinated by the lovely human being and his unique character and pursues him through giving him various gifts in secrecy. However, Harry, being an Aquarius meant that if you fancy him, you've got to tell him straight up or he will not get it, at all. Zayn doesn't know this and Harry ends up getting annoyed by the mystery person, who is leaving their things on his space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This short story is inspired by this prompt from otpprompts.tumblr.com -
> 
> Imagine A keeps leaving gifts for B (chocolates, flowers, love letters, etc.) as an obvious hint that they have an admirer. Except B is dense and gets confused as to why someone keeps leaving their shit all over their desk, bag and locker.

"I say you drop it right the fuck now before the nerd comes."

Zayn turns his head and sends his infamous death glare to his best mate, Louis. He is the picture of hatred, golden irises burning with fire, nostrils flared and lips pulled down in a frown. He wags his middle finger in the air and promptly shoves it in Louis' face. The older boy squawks in surprise and ducks away to avoid Zayn poking his eyes out, his arms flailing as he tries not to fall on his butt. Louis fails anyway, slips and ends up sprawled like a starfish beside Zayn, groaning. The younger boy snorts loudly, taking great pleasure in Louis's fall.

"Fuck you, Malik."

"I told you not to fucking call him a nerd," Zayn hisses in return, eyes glinting in amusement, finally setting the bouquet of fresh pink carnations in his hands on top of the desk. He pushes it gently so that it rests right smack in the middle of the rectangular space. A tiny smile lifts the corner of his lips. He pats the delicate paper covering the fragrant flowers, says, "There all done."

Louis makes a gagging noise as he gets up and dusts his striped shirt and trousers. Afterwards, he pushes at Zayn's shoulder before running towards the front door of the classroom to avoid a retaliation. "You got it so bad for that curly weirdo, Z."

"Shut your trap, Louis," Zayn scoffs, making his way to where his friend is. He turns back around to take one last glance at the little gift he left for his pretty nerd and grins in satisfaction. He thinks of the boy's reaction, of that attractive mouth stretching into an appreciative smile, dimples on display, and sighs to himself. He's whipped, that is what he is. He says something completely the opposite, though, "I like messing with him."

"Whatever, mate." Louis shakes his head, clearly in disbelief, and then they both freeze.

The door opens slowly, a set of pretty fingers visible on the edge of the wood as the owner pushes it. Louis, startled, pushes back instantly, full force, effectively shutting the heavy wood on the stranger's hand. They hear a sickening crack first quickly followed by an eerily familiar, loud cry of pain echoing from the other side of the door, where the owner of the aforementioned fingers are. There is a dull thud, like a body hitting the ground, and soft sniffles.

"Tommo, what the fuck man?"

"Jesus," Louis raises his hands up in surrender, face stormy. It looks like he isn't the least bit apologetic for almost crushing someone's hand. "You bloody well know I hate surprises! I can't control my reactions, yeah?"

Zayn shoves his friend to the side and opens the door, heart stuttering to skip a few beats when he sees a mop of dark brown curls and a pair of green eyes staring back at him from behind thick-rimmed glasses. Shit. "Harry!"

"Y-You..."

Harry looks shocked, eyes as wide as they can be. There are tears clouding his green eyes as he cradles his injured right hand against his chest, the pointer and middle finger horribly limp. He is slumped against the wall, some of his workbooks and textbooks scattered around him. Belatedly, Zayn remembers that he hasn't called the younger boy by his name _ever_ and it is probably a part of the reason why Harry seems so shocked.

Zayn snaps out of his musings when Louis stumbles out of the classroom and gasps, totally out of his apathetic character. Zayn takes it as his cue and hurriedly kneels to take Harry's left hand in his. "Let's get you to the clinic," he tells Harry gruffly, torn between his fluttering heart (Harry's hand is rather soft and warm) and keeping up his emotionless facade.

Harry continues staring at him in disbelief, like he cannot decide if Zayn is a figment of his pained consciousness or is merely up to playing another game with him. He stands up with furrowed brows and gently pulls his hand away from Zayn's grip and nods, sniffling softly. Zayn pretends Harry's rejection of his touch does not bother him.

With a huff of air, Zayn walks off, sending a glare of warning at Louis and mouthing "I'll be dealing with you later." He watches as Louis flips him off and scurries in the opposite direction, not even sparing Harry a glance.

Zayn wonders what has happened between the two because, once upon a time, they were close friends. Louis used to adore Harry but abruptly avoided him like the plague, once summer break ended back in year 11. Being the guy that he is, Zayn never asked Louis about it, though he thinks sooner or later he's going to have to.

When Louis rounded the corner and disappeared from his view, Zayn turns his attention back to his curly-headed nerd. He sees Harry on the floor, crawling as he slowly gathers his belongings using his good hand. Internally, he starts a debate with himself, asking if it was worth it to kneel down and help Harry. He spends a long time pondering, though, because the next thing he knows, Harry is a few steps away from him, book bag slung haphazardly on his left shoulder. He jogs to catch up with the younger boy, intent on escorting him to the clinic.

"I can, erm, go to the nurse's office alone?" Harry tells Zayn, except it ends up as a question that the older boy barely catches. He clears his throat loudly and puts more distance between his and Zayn's body. "You don't have to go with m-me."

"I want to," Zayn insists. He blinks rapidly, scrambling to redeem himself because for a moment there, he sounded so desperate for Harry's company. "I mean, it's the least I could do, isn't it? My mate broke your fingers and forgot to apologize. So, like, here I am."

Harry breathes out. If Zayn would have snuck a peek at him, he would have been able to see Harry's disappointed face. "Right. Louis forgot to apologize."

"Yeah."

Zayn glances at Harry on the corner of his eyes, finally seeing his upset expression. He shakes his head and they walk in awkward silence during the rest of their journey to the school's clinic. After a few more minutes, they reach the small, sterilized room. Seconds after, Zayn gets a face full of the door because Harry has let it slam shut on its own, having pushed his way inside the clinic. He leaves Zayn there without a word of acknowledgement, which doesn't sit well with the older boy.

"It was an accident." Zayn hears Harry say as he makes his way inside the clinic. He sees the boy sitting calmly on top of the bed with the nurse fussing over his limp fingers. She runs a gentle finger over Harry's injured hand, carefully checking if he broke any bones. They both haven't noticed Zayn's presence in the room.

"Who was it this time?" the petite nurse asks, looking relieved. She pats Harry's head fondly but her eyes are stern as she stares at the young man. "You're lucky nothing's broken, just a tiny fracture."

Harry shrugs, a defeated expression on his face that he tries hard to cover up. "T'was no one," he answers softly. "I closed the door on my hand, is all." The nurse gives Harry a dull look, a silent 'Do you really think you can fool me?' expression that Harry turns away from. She then sighs tiredly and starts to work on Harry's fingers in complete silence.

Zayn decides that it is time to let them know he's inside the room by clearing his throat loudly. He feels weird and obnoxious afterwards, seeing the nurse and Harry stare at him confusedly, a bit of a grimace passing through Zayn's sharp features. "Erm."

The nurse snaps out of her surprise and manages a cordial smile. "Hi. How may I help you?"

"Oh no." Zayn shakes his head, eyes big and wide. "I'm not. There isn't. I just."

The corner of Harry's lips quirk up in this genuine little smile at Zayn's apparent awkward demeanor. Zayn, in turn, stares at Harry, filing away that little sweetness in his mind for the days that Harry looks at him as though he pities Zayn. That perhaps is what drew Zayn to Harry, the reason for his massive crush on the younger boy: the quiet strength that he has. Harry is a brilliant boy if a bit weird, which is why the students make fun of him. Harry doesn't seem to mind, though. He goes about his school day with his head held high and his face kind and open. He is an achiever, his good grades consistent. Zayn likes him but he has a shit way of showing his affections for the younger lad. Instead of smiling at Harry when they pass each other by the halls, Zayn sneers and pushes at the boy's shoulder. Harry, though, takes it all in stride, merely rights himself when Zayn pushes him a bit too roughly that he loses his balance and returns the sneers with this tiny, polite smile before walking away. Zayn feels vaguely like he has lost an unspoken game between the two of them every single time such things happen.

"Right."

Zayn looks at the nurse when she speaks up, completely missing Harry's eyes tracing his face intently. The nurse is putting the last touches on Harry's injured fingers. "Well, is there anything you need from me then? Since you are obviously not sick, whatsoever, I reckon you are here for something else."

"I'm here for him." Zayn nods in Harry's direction.

"Harry?" The nurse looks delighted at that, grinning. "A friend?"

Harry makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, which sounds an awful lot like a protest that Zayn hurriedly covers up with a forced laugh. "Yeah, mates." He hopes the nurse doesn't pick up any of his awkwardness about the subject at hand and let him stay with Harry.

"Oh, how delightful," the nurse says earnestly, her grin widening even more. She pats Harry's thigh when she passes by him on her way to the sink. "Harry, darling, I am really glad you are making friends now."

Harry winces in response and lets out a nervous sort of chuckle, his broad shoulders in a slouch. "I have to go to class," he mutters quietly. He jumps down from the table and snatches his bag off the floor. "Thanks for fixing my fingers." He brushes past Zayn by the door, almost sprinting.

Zayn shrugs when the nurse looks at him in question. He gives her a small, polite smile before excusing himself and running after the younger boy. Although Zayn is no track star, he catches up to Harry in no time and with no sweat at all, considering Harry simply does not do fast or anything similar to it. Upon reaching said boy, Zayn grabs his arm, effectively cutting off his escape. He misses the startled looks that the few students milling about on the hallways are throwing in their direction.

"What do you want from me?" Harry asks tiredly, sighing. He only has half of his body turned towards Zayn, the other half poised as if he's ready to run away.

Zayn lets go of Harry's arm, shoving his hands inside his pockets. "Let me walk you to your class." He can tell that he has surprised Harry with his words because the younger boy looks at him with impossibly wide eyes and mouth agape.

"What?"

"I'll walk you to your class," Zayn repeats, patient and more than a little amused. He nods in the general direction of Harry's first morning class. He supposes he can indulge that tiny bit of information to Harry, of him knowing where the younger boy's first class is.

"Why?" Harry is suspicious now, getting over his surprise rather quickly. He quickly turns his body all the way, facing Zayn with his arms crossed over his chest. He stares at Zayn with serious green eyes, daring him to lie his way out of the situation.

Zayn sighs and glances at his wristwatch. "You're going to be late, you know," he tells Harry, hoping to derail the younger boy's thoughts about Zayn's perfectly innocent intentions.

Harry nods but insists for an answer, saying, "I asked you a question, though, Zayn."

"Jesus Christ, Styles," Zayn growls, scrubbing a hand through his hair furiously. He cannot stop himself, really, he has always been a short-tempered lad. "Open your fucking eyes, will you? You've got four of 'em, for fuck's sake."

Harry frowns. "What are you talking about? I just asked why you wanted to walk me to my class. I don't see why I need my eyes—oh, sorry, four eyes—for your answer."

"I—" Eyes wide, Zayn barely stops himself from blurting how much he fancies this lovely, strong and brilliant young man in front of him. He takes a step back, shakes his head and opts to glare at Harry instead. "Whatever, noodle," he scoffs, knowing how weak his choice of an insult is.

Harry raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Noodle, huh?"

Zayn's hands curl up into fists, itching to strike, ready to hurt. He mentally counts from one to ten, trying to calm the fuck down. "You're a bloody noodle," he scoffs. "You're so tall and lanky and clumsy—"

Harry raises his uninjured hand in this flapping motion, cutting off Zayn's tirade. "You can stop with the compliments now, Zayn," he says, sarcasm at its finest. Then, he says, more serious than ever, "I get it, you know?"

Zayn feels his world stop spinning. This is it. Harry has known about Zayn's schoolgirl crush on him all this time and now Zayn is going to be brutally rejected in front of sleep-heavy students on a bloody Monday morning. Oh, joy.

Harry is seemingly oblivious to Zayn's perfect resemblance to a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. He continues talking, his voice resigned, defeated. "You hate me. I disgust you. You wish I was gone and all that."

Hold up, Zayn thinks. "What?"

"You don't have to feel bad that Lou—I mean, Louis Tomlinson slammed the door on my fingers. It's whatever. It's alright. I'm fine and I'm not going to go to the principal's office to file an incident report and demand for money about this," Harry explains. Other than him fidgeting with the straps of his bag, there are no other indicators that he is nervous or scared. In fact, his expression is that of determination, it looks as though he has waited for this day, knows beforehand that it would come, and these are the words that he has memorized by heart. "Look, you graduate in a matter of months, Zayn. We've been doing this bully and his nerd thing for years. Believe me, I'm used to it and I assure you that it doesn't faze me anymore. I'm over the anger and hurt now. I'm mostly disappointed but you don't care about that, yeah?"

Zayn's throat feels dry but his eyes are watering. No, he thinks with panic. He cares, so fucking much, and he is just shit at showing it. He opens his mouth to deny, maybe redeem himself a little bit, but Harry's words had somehow sealed his lips shut.

Despite the sadness clear in his sparkling green eyes, Harry manages to give Zayn a small smile, a bit wilting at the edges, but a smile, nonetheless. "Still, umm, thank you? For trying to do the right thing given the situation. It was nice of you to accompany me to the clinic and I really appreciate it."

Zayn is at a loss for words. He realizes how far he has pushed Harry away from him that it seems impossible for the younger lad to see Zayn as a potential boyfriend. He watches with wide eyes as Harry looks at him one last time and starts walking towards his classroom.

"Mate, what the bloody hell are you doing in the middle of the hallway?"

Turning on his heels, Zayn is met with Liam's questioning stare. The other lad is dressed in his usual combination: jeans and a plain white tee underneath a flannel, sneakers and clutching a leather satchel. Liam smiles at Zayn when he catches his eyes.

"I have to—" Zayn nods with his head to the general direction of Harry's classroom and lets his sentence hang in the air.

Liam nods, because he knows exactly what Zayn is trying to say. "Alright, bro. Good morning, by the way."

"Morning, Li," Zayn grunts, the corner of his lips lifting up into a smile. He then starts to walk towards Harry's classroom. He hears Liam footsteps behind him, no doubt following him.

"What did you get him today, Zayn?"

"You'll see."

The two mates reach the classroom in a matter of seconds and peek their head inside. Zayn watches as Harry picks up the bouquet of flowers that he has left on top of the younger boy's desk. Harry looks confused at first and then slightly annoyed before he lifts his head and looks around the classroom, his eyes settling on every student inside and then back to the flowers. Zayn wonders how Harry completely misses Zayn and Liam's eyes on him, despite them being very obvious and open about the staring.

Liam steps back, away from the door and turns to Zayn with an amused grin. "You got him flowers?"

Zayn nods, his shoulders lifting up in a shrug. "Pink carnations, which means admiration and devotion."

"Nice," Liam tells him with a well-meaning pat to his back. "Very traditional."

The chuckle tumbles, uncontrolled, out of Zayn's lips. "Traditional?" At this point, Zayn is satisfied of his fulfillment of his daily mission and starts the walk towards his own class. Liam slides into pace beside him.

"Mate, you fancy Harry," the taller of the two says in a whisper, making sure that no one will hear him. "You want him to be your boyfriend, yeah?"

Zayn hums in response.

"Then, this..." Liam pauses, sweeps his hands around to indicate _this_ and continues, "...is you wooing the lad. Kinda traditional in the sense that you give him flowers and such. Though, I would have to advise you to tell him already."

"I'll tell him when the time is right, Liam," Zayn replies easily. He imagines telling Harry that he fancies him and represses a laugh, because he knows exactly how Harry will react and it is kind of unpleasant and depressing, to say the least.

Louis is waiting by the door of their classroom when Liam and Zayn finally reach it. Liam greets Louis with a headlock and proceeds to dig his fist on the latter's head, effectively messing up Louis's brushed up 'do. Zayn watches on with a smirk.

Louis shrieks loudly, elbowing a laughing Liam on the stomach. "Get off me, you oaf."

Liam pats Louis's bum gently and chuckles before mercifully letting the boy up. "Good morning, Tommo."

"Is there ever a good in the morning?" Louis groans dramatically as they enter the classroom. A few of their fellow students chuckle at his statement while the others greet them as they pass by. The three of them then sit down in their usual seats. "Try going to school earlier than the janitor with this weirdo over here and see why _good morning_ should be banned from being used ever again."

Zayn flips Louis off, swatting the accusing finger thrown his way.

Liam's eyes are crinkled along with the smile on his face. "Maybe I should accompany Zayn in the mornings instead and watch him work his magic. I'd appreciate a few pointers if I want to impress someone myself," he agrees, thoughtfully considering Louis's words.

Louis stares at Liam, unimpressed. "Mate," he huffs. "That was rhetoric. I said that to prove my point that there is no such thing as a good morning. You weren't suppose to agree."

"I know." Liam nods. "But, I meant what I said. I want to see Zayn at work, like what does he do to impress people? Does he have a plan, a strategy or he just wings it?"

As Liam prattles on, Louis turns to Zayn with a sour expression on his face, his lips in a straight line and his eyebrows pinched in annoyance. "Maybe if I ignore him he'll disappear."

"That's not how it works, I'm afraid," Zayn sympathizes. He pats Louis's arm and turns to face the front of their classroom, waiting for their first period teacher to arrive. As the seconds pass, Zayn finds his mind wandering, thinking about Harry and what he intends to do with the flowers.

Will he give it to Niall, his bottle blond best mate, like the box of milk chocolates that Zayn left on top of his desk at the school publication's office?

Is he going to hand it to one of the high-achieving members of the debate team, much like the box of poems that Zayn wrote, well, _copied_ from a Pablo Neruda poetry book?

Will the female teachers be carrying around a single piece of pink carnation all day for Harry decided that because he didn't want the flowers, it is better to distribute them all to the female population of the school's faculty?

Zayn hopes not, just thinking about every possible scenario of Harry getting rid of Zayn's present gift is enough to send a painful twinge to his heart. Zayn thinks he is pretty tough for enduring the sight of his gifts being handed to someone else twice, obviously not treasured enough by Harry for him to give them away so easily, but somehow he is doubting his strength now. He knows that one more blow to the heart and he'll break. He will cave in, confess his growing affections for Harry and, because he only manages to fuck up every single thing when it comes to the boy of his dreams, Harry will think of everything as an elaborate prank and remove himself completely in Zayn's life.

"Malik, Zayn."

The Chemistry teacher, Mrs. Green, a patient woman in her forties, looks around the classroom, searching for Zayn in the crowd of her students. She sees him staring blankly into space, his arm balanced on top of his desk with his chin supported by his palm. He looks deep into his thoughts. "Mr. Malik?"

Liam rushes to tap Zayn's shoulder, trying to get his attention. "Zayn, mate, Mrs. Green is calling you."

"Kindly wake him up, Mr. Tomlinson," the teacher sighs when Liam's actions are rewarded with nothing. "I'd like to start and finish my class in the designated time."

Louis cackles in his seat, ever the mischievous young man that he is, and, without warning, smacks the back of Zayn's head. There is a collective gasp and then the teacher and students fall into a stunned silence, still not used to Louis's way of approaching things. Liam, on the other hand, reacts by throwing a pen to Louis's face and then attending to Zayn, who is now sprawled on the floor, groaning.

"You alright there, Z?" Liam asks, gently lifting Zayn up and depositing him on his chair.

Zayn rubs the back of his head, ignoring Liam and instead glaring at his arsehole of a friend. "Louis, what the fuck was that all about?"

"Payback," Louis says with a wink, twirling Liam's pen in his fingers.

Mrs. Green, by now, has recovered enough to note Louis's brashness and Zayn's cussing. She shakes her head and pulls out two pieces of paper and scribbles something on them. "Mr. Malik, Mr. Tomlinson," she calls out, stopping Zayn from lunging at Louis and clocking him on the face. "Detention."

Both boys' expression fall at that and then they go back to glaring at each other. Thankfully, they drop the issue before it could get any further. Mrs. Green couldn't help but literally breathe a huge sigh of relief before finally starting her class.

In the middle of the lecture, Zayn receives a note from Louis, who is trying his hardest to maintain his expression of indifference. With Liam peeking over his shoulder to read, Zayn goes through the content with a frown before using the back of the paper to send a reply.

**_I reckon it's time for us to grow up and find mates of our own. It was nice knowing you, Malik._ **

**_PS. As for Liam's custody, you can have him when we don't have homeworks._ **

Louis tears the paper in half after he finishes reading Zayn's response, his grin wide.

**_Shut up and eat lunch with me and Liam by our usual place, you dramatic fuck._ **

Despite the abundance of detentions and frequent visits to the principal's office, it is still safe to say that, at the end of the day, all is right in the little world of Louis, Zayn and Liam.


	2. Chapter 2

"Did you see the bouquet of flowers that Styles was holding yesterday?"

The words make Zayn stop dead in his tracks, his eyes sharp and shoulders tense. He peeks around the corner and sees two nameless faces chatting in front of their lockers. He eyes their broad shoulders and muscular legs in an all blue-colored uniform, realizing that they are from their school's football team and Zayn couldn't care less about their opinions. Still, he has heard Harry's last name and he needs to know what this is all about.

"Yeah, man," the slightly shorter of the two replies, stuffing his books messily inside his locker. "He carried it around school the whole day, too, what a bloody weirdo."

"What's weirder is the thought that someone fancied him enough to give him flowers," the other says, his expression is that of utter confusion, like he cannot truly fathom why someone like Harry Styles is capable of receiving gifts from admirers. He enters the code for his locker to secure it and leans on the metal afterwards, his beefy arms crossed over his chest. Zayn notices that if he isn't such a judgmental fucker, he might be attractive with his tousled brown hair and big blue eyes. "I just can't imagine it."

There is a laugh from his friend. "I reckon Styles bought it for himself and decided to fucking display it around like someone actually gave it to him."

"That's more acceptable, don't you think so?"

The shorter boy agrees with a sage nod. He adds, "Harry Styles with a suitor? What a joke."

Moving of its own accord, Zayn's feet start bringing him to where the dumb jocks are still conversing, mocking an innocent, oblivious Harry for their entertainment. He plans on beating some sense into them, maybe a punch or two, when some beats him to it. Zayn hears a thickly accented voice cut in and interrupt the two boys' fun.

"Your birth are jokes," Niall chirps loudly and although he sounds joyful, his expression is anything but. His usually calm ocean blue eyes are alight with anger, a blazing fire darkening his irises. His cheeks are red with fury and his usually upturned mouth is set in a straight, grim line. He approaches the two lads with purpose, his hands balled up into tight fists beside him. Niall Horan is naturally lanky and a couple of inches shorter than the two footie members, but his current countenance has the two guys cowering in front of him. "Picking on someone when he isn't even around, gossiping and spreading your own shit on his name. What the fuck is that all about?"

Douche number one with his tousled brown hair and big blue eyes, gets over his surprise, swallows and steps forward. He tries to school his expression into one he thinks is supposed to be intimidating. However, Niall is not one to back away from a fight when it is because one of his friends are mocked behind their backs. Showing no signs of fear, the Irish lad stays rooted on his spot, undeterred.

"What's it to you, Horan? Why're you defending Styles? Are you suddenly his bodyguard now?"

"Yeah," douche number two agrees, nodding. He bravely sidles up to situate himself beside his mate. "Gavin," he continues, addressing his fellow football player with a smirk. "Maybe you're onto something! I bet Niall here is the one who gave the flowers to nerd boy."

If it's possible, Niall's cheeks burn even darker, angrier. From his vantage point, Zayn can see the muscles in his jaw clenching in fury. "Harry is my best friend and, let me tell you this, he's way above you with his brain and personality. So, I suggest you fuckers to kindly back the fuck off and let him be, if you know what is best for you."

"Are you sure you know what is best for _you_? Because if I am not mistaken, you're on your own right now and you're pissing me the fuck off by shoving your nose into our business," Gavin growls, his nostrils flaring with anger. He steps forward, closer to Niall, threatening him with a punch. "After I'm done with your skinny little arse, you'll look as unsightly as your so-called best friend."

There is pause and then as quick as lightning Niall strikes, throwing a vicious sucker punch straight into Gavin's stomach. The football player is unprepared for any sort of attack and doubles over with a choked gasp. His still unidentified friend immediately flies to his side to support him.

"Don't mistake my skinny little arse for being weak, Gavin," Niall says seriously, looking into Gavin's eyes with a glare. The blond is breathing a bit hard, obviously seething with rage. "I can take you on. Stop talking rubbish about Harry."

"I'm going to fuck you up—"

Zayn steps forward at that point, making himself known to the three. He is kind of glad that there are barely any students left at school because this would have certainly attracted attention and Zayn cannot really afford another talk between himself, the school principal and his parents.

"Shut the hell up, Atwood," Zayn hisses, finally remembering douche number one's last name. He fixes the irate young men his meanest glare. "I'm pretty sure Liam has some nice benches for you to sit your arse on during games after I tell him about this."

"Didn't know Styles has tons of guard dogs protecting even his bloody name," the other boy mumbles under his breath, helping Gavin to stand up. Gavin nudges him lightly with a grunt. "Let's just go, Jasper."

Niall and Zayn watch the two struggle their way out of the school and then turn to regard each other. Niall stares at Zayn with thoughtfulness, his earlier anger replaced instantly with confusion as to why the upperclassman cared enough to break up the growing fight.

On the other hand, Zayn takes his gaze away from the blond and makes his way to his own locker, which is a few feet away from Jasper's. He types his code in and grabs a few of his books, shoving them inside his backpack. He's got some serious studying to do for a long exam that is scheduled this incoming week.

"Thanks," Niall says finally. Zayn turns to look at him and sees the lad looking at him with a little smile and critical eyes, like he is assessing Zayn and his motives. His gaze makes Zayn turn away from him and continue rummaging through his things for something to do.

Niall continues speaking. "I could have punched him on his dickish face next but I don't fancy having to explain to my mum why my knuckles are bloody."

Finally, that elicits a chuckle from Zayn. He shuts his locker close and locks it before turning to face Niall. "It's no big deal, mate."

"You've been listening to them longer than me," Niall tells Zayn as they both walk towards the school gates. He sounds both curious and guarded, which gets Zayn confused. "Any particular reason for that? You could have just grabbed your books and left the scene, but no. You stayed, listened and stepped in at the right time."

While Zayn knows Niall, can say they are friends to some degree, he has absolutely no idea that the blond bloke is as frank as they come. He turns his head to the side to look at his companion. "I know I'm not like the nicest bloke around but I do know when someone has crossed the line and is talking shit about others."

Niall snorts. "Bullshit."

Zayn halts to a sudden stop; that is quite unexpected. He mentally counts to ten in an attempt to calm down and not snap on Niall, which he knows is absolutely unnecessary, not to mention wholly antagonizing, given the situation with Harry. When he is sure that his voice is free of irritation, he says, "Excuse me?"

"No offense, mate, but you've bullied Harry for a couple of years now," Niall explains, facing Zayn bravely. He has his arms crossed over his chest and Zayn is struck with how Niall and Harry act so much like each other. He spares a thought to wonder if he, Louis and Liam do the same. "You seem to enjoy pushing him around and not giving him the time of the day to breathe. I've wanted to confront you for the longest time but Haz told me to let it go and made me swear on my life that I will. Then suddenly, you care about what others think of him? Load of bullshit is what this is."

"Look, Niall," Zayn starts. He pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a slight headache making its way to him. How convenient. "I care alright. I'm not that cruel."

"Right," Niall says, still looking unimpressed by Zayn's words. The younger of the two opens his mouth to say so when his mobile phone beeps, indicating a message. Niall pulls it out of his pocket and appears to read a message. After a few seconds, a smile tugs on the corner of his lips and he hurriedly taps away on his phone. He then pockets it once he has finished. "Well, I've got to go, Zayn."

Zayn nods and turns the opposite way. Despite wanting to explain himself more to Harry's best mate, perhaps redeem himself a little bit, he thinks this is for the best. He reckons that there is always a next time to do such a thing. Plus, he has to meet with his best mates in this billiards place to play some. "Alright. See you 'round."

Niall steps to the right to start his walk home. But then, at the very last second, almost like he remembered something of importance, he turns back around with wide eyes, facing Zayn's disappearing figure. He yells with urgency, "It's you, innit?"

Zayn spins on his heels to raise his eyebrows in question. "What?"

Niall smirks knowingly. "Next time, you should give Harry dark chocolates. Our little achiever hates milk chocolates with a burning passion."

Not meaning to sound dramatic and shit but Zayn swears his heart momentarily stopped beating at Niall's words, his whole world freezing in shock. He stays rooted to his spot as Niall approaches him, smirk widening at Zayn's reaction.

"Also, Hazza is more into Rumi than Pablo Neruda."

Zayn opens and closes his mouth in rapid succession and Niall laughs, loud. Niall's blue eyes are bright with amusement and teasing, such a huge contrast to his earlier hostility. "You did well with the carnations, I'll give you that. Pink for admiration and devotion - well done, man."

There's a rush of blood to Zayn's cheeks, warming them up. He groans in embarrassment and rubs his face with the palm of his hand. "How did you know?"

"Zayn, are you serious?" Niall asks, incredulous, his eyes wide in disbelief. "I'm your neighbor. I live right in front of your house. I see you run out of your house and to Louis's car every single day. Don't you think this massive bouquet of flowers will escape my sight?"

"Shit."

There is an agreeing nod from Niall and he pats Zayn's back. "When I saw you holding the bouquet, I thought it's for that purple-haired bird that you seemed to fancy. Erm, Perrie, was it?"

With nothing else to say, Zayn manages to incline his head in a nod. He likes her enough because Perrie is pretty cool and fun to be with yet she holds no candle over Harry. Sure, she's beautiful with clear blue eyes and devastating wit, but Zayn's already a captive of haunting green eyes and softness. He is too far gone for quiet brilliance, a lovely mind full of life and beautiful words.

Niall continues, "So, her. Imagine my surprise when I see Haz struggling to juggle his books and this eerily familiar bunch of flowers when I saw him entering the cafeteria. I asked him how he got the bouquet and he told me that someone left it on his desk and that there is nothing on the card. He also told me that no one in his class seemed to be the owner of the bouquet. I figured it out then."

"Oh god." Zayn is near whining now, totally embarrassed. He runs his fingers through his hair, worrying that Niall will say something to Harry - after all they are best mates. "You won't tell Harry, right?"

"Of course not," Niall says seriously. He steps back, away from Zayn's personal bubble. "I don't want him to get his hopes up and then get crushed by you."

"I'm serious about him!" Zayn protests angrily. He doesn't appreciate Niall's blatant distaste of him when he knows that Zayn has been trying his mighty best to woo Harry in his own way. "I'll hurt myself first before hurting him."

The humorless laugh that slips past Niall's mouth strikes an arrow through Zayn's chest. He is well aware that he has fucked up all of his chances of being with Harry but hearing the confirmation of his failure through Niall's laughter is on a different level of pain. Zayn opens his mouth to protest, only to close it soon after, finding no words to defend himself.

"You've hurt him for years now. Are you trying to tell me that you've been hurting yourself as well? All this time?" Niall asks Zayn, squinting at him.

Zayn deflates visibly. "I just didn't know how to tell him how I feel."

Niall snorts and starts backing away from Zayn. "Well, I suggest you don't. Don't bother telling him, anymore. Like, at all."

"I'll change, Niall," Zayn says passionately, meaning it truly. "For Harry."

"Stop yapping and start doing, Zayn."


	3. Chapter 3

Today is a Sunday and in their mandatory brunch at Mcdonald's, Zayn wants to smack himself for being a right idiot at the start of a week, lamenting the fact that he has divulged the story of his and Niall's interaction last Friday to two bumbling idiots - his best mates. Across from him are Louis and Liam, both sporting shit-eating grins after he has told them what has gone down between him and Niall Horan. The two find it highly amusing that the slim blond can send the tough Zayn into an emotional distress with just his words, alone. It's amazing.

"Oh god," Zayn whines. He has been doing alot of whining lately, it's funny. He rubs a hand across his face and then proceeds to hide behind his palm. "What if he does tell Harry that I'm the one who is giving him the gifts? Harry will definitely dump me even before I properly ask him out."

Louis snickers around the straw in his mouth. "This is gold. Zayn is pathetic for once."

"You're not helping, Louis," Liam scoffs, elbowing Louis on the stomach. The eldest groans and shoves Liam to the side with much force, making him topple sideways, almost falling off the chair.

Looking on, Zayn is not amused, because, one, he hates the texture of the crisps in this place and, two, his friends are drawing too much unwanted attention towards their little group by acting like unruly children, more so than the squealing kids by the playplace. He glares at his so-called friends and regrets his decision of calling them for support. "Can you both quit being wankers and help me out?"

"I'm not sure what you want from me, Z," Liam says with a helpless shrug, simultaneously dumping the pickles on his cheeseburger on top of Louis's big mac, which the eldest doesn't notice. The expression on his face is that of genuine confusion because, time and time again, he has reminded Zayn of what he thinks is the right course of action regarding Harry. "I keep telling you to man up and confess to him. Harry is too kind to let you down brutally or summat."

"You obviously don't know the nerd, Liam," Louis mutters, frowning. "For all we know, Harry thinks of himself as too good to be true and will not think twice rejecting people who he thinks are not deserving of him."

Liam and Zayn exchange glances. From Louis's tone of voice, it is clear that he is speaking from experience. Zayn decides that now is the time to get nosy and ask him about his and Harry's friendship fallout.

"What happened between you and Harry, Louis?"

Louis crosses his arms over his chest, frown deepening. "I just found out his true personality is all."

"That's a bunch of bullshit," Zayn retorts. He glares at his friend and dares him to lie. He can tell that there is more to this story than what meets the eye and he thinks it's time that he knows what it is.

Liam, on the other hand, is quiet and is merely observing the scene of his two mates arguing.

Louis lets out a huge sigh, eyebrows pulled to the middle of his forehead. "I...fancied Harry back then."

Two sets of brown eyes get wide from Louis's quiet admission. Liam and Zayn are absolutely gobsmacked and are rendered speechless.

"I confessed to him, like all proper and shit with picnic and music, but he rejected me," Louis adds bitterly. "He told me that he's not really looking for a relationship and such, but, honestly, it felt like he lead me on."

Zayn eyes Louis's expression and sees nothing but the truth in the dullness of his blue eyes and the slump of his shoulders. He imagines himself in the older lad's place and tries not to cringe; he has never dealt well with rejection.

"Mate, I think Harry's decision is the best given your situation." Liam is always the voice of reason between the three of them, often the one seeing the light during dark times and he does not disappoint now. He gently pats Louis's back. "What if he truly only fancies you as a mate and he doesn't want to hurt your feelings by starting a relationship with you when he only likes you platonically? Think about it. He actually did you a favor, Louis."

"Whatever." Louis is one stubborn bloke, unyielding. He sticks to his opinions and beliefs like he is superglued onto them. "I'm kinda glad I distanced myself from him because look at what he has become. Such a nerd."

Zayn is about to comment on Louis's confession when he hears the unmistakable happy laugh of one Irish lad. Zayn stops short and follows the joyful sound. He spots the blond young man on the counter, being awfully friendly to the equally blonde bird behind it. As expected, beside Niall is a lanky lad with a head full of long, dark brown curly hair. Hungrily, Zayn stares at Harry, drinking in the fond smile, which he is directing towards his best mate, and the crinkled eyes behind his thick glasses. Secretly, Zayn is harboring some strong wishes to be the one to receive such a precious, affection-filled look.

Louis's bitter mumble is the one that snaps Zayn out of his fantasy. "Speaking of the devil."

Liam swallows his last bite and stares reproachfully at their blue-eyed friend. "Well, that's not very nice, Louis," he scolds gently, wagging his finger at the eldest, like he's a child that has been caught stealing cookies directly from the jar. "Harry is a friendly lad. I reckon it is about time you put the past behind you and start anew."

Zayn snorts at Liam's words of wisdom and Louis's offended look.

"Zayn, mate, hold me back from punching Leemo's face, I swear to god."

Naturally, Liam looks confused by Louis's words. "What did I say?"

Their banter is cut short when Harry passes by their table with his greasy fastfood, seemingly unaware of their presence. One look at him and you can easily notice his struggle of not dropping anything from the loaded tray, perhaps even the whole thing, especially because he is carrying it with his hand injury. He is walking ever so slowly, his eyes focused on two tall cups of soda that are wobbling on top of his tray. Zayn notices with a quiet groan that Harry has his lower lip trapped between his teeth, nibbling the plump flesh, a look of intense concentration etched across his face.

Liam nudges Zayn with his foot, kicking him lightly. This action causes Zayn to snap out of his Harry-induced trance and he looks at his friend with raised eyebrows. "What?" he mouths, not wanting to let Harry know that they are here as well and then cause him to choose a table that is far from them. Zayn doesn't like the idea of not being able to see Harry as he eats.

"Talk to him," Liam whispers, encouraging Zayn to come clean to Harry. "Tell him how you really feel."

Zayn looks at Liam, then at Louis, getting two different reactions, altogether, because Louis is shaking his head and miming a slashing motion against his neck. "Bad idea, mate," he mouths, dead serious.

While Zayn decides on what to do, Harry is close to reaching his desired table, a triumphant smile slowly stretching across his lips. Unfortunately, before he can fully feel satisfied that he has made it safely to the table without wasting their food, a tiny puddle of orange soda gets in his way. It happens in slow motion: Harry slips on the liquid, his legs sliding forward while his hands lose their grip on the tray. Then, various food items fly to different directions, scattering on the floor, and, as if to mock Harry further than he already has been, one of the cups of soda fall on him, drenching him with cold, sticky fizzy drink.

"Harry!" Zayn yelps.

Without thinking twice, the dark-haired lad rushes out of his seat and to Harry's side. Luckily, Zayn is always ready with a handkerchief - cannot leave home without one, really - and pulls it out of his back pocket. He then proceeds to wipe the soaked front of Harry's band shirt, discreetly noting that it is one of his favorite rock bands, The Rolling Stones. His insides shiver with delight at his and Harry's newfound common taste, perhaps his next gift would be a Stones's vinyl.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt? Can you stand up and walk?" he then asks in quick succession, unaware that half of the fastfood chain's population is watching the two of them with interest.

Harry pushes the dripping wet hair out of his eyes - having lost his glasses during his blunder - and curses himself mentally. Why must he repeatedly make a fool out of himself in Zayn's presence? Despite his outer facade of indifference when it comes to emotions related to Zayn, deep inside Harry there's this Jupiter-sized crush on the older boy and it pains him to think that to Zayn he is only some dumb lower level kid. With Harry's clumsy tendencies, it's no wonder the handsome lad enjoys pushing him around and taunting him; he's a right fool.

"I'm fine," he grumbles when Zayn patiently repeats his earlier questions. _Why do you care all of a sudden?_ is what he wants to ask next, eyeing the way Zayn tries to eliminate a particularly tough dark stain on Harry's white shirt by scrubbing at it furiously.

"Don't, uh, bother," Harry tells Zayn when he hears the older lad starting to curse when he smears the stain further into the fabric instead of getting it out. He swats Zayn's hands away and struggles to stand up without any help. On his feet is when he notices, albeit through blurry eyes, that an employee is already cleaning up his mess and the other patrons of the restaurant are back to their own worlds, minding their own businessses.

A few seconds later, Harry couldn't help but jerk his head to the side when he feels warm hands press themselves on either side of his face, steadying it. Then, Zayn is carefully slipping his glasses on, past his nose and snug against his eyes. He is moving so tenderly and gently, with so much concentration, that Harry feels his cheeks grow hot under the intense attention. Soon it is all too much that he looks away, immediately seeing Niall sitting by Liam and Louis, watching him interact with Zayn, his blue eyes amused. Liam also has his eyes on Harry, grinning warmly at the younger boy. Louis, though, is pretending to be deeply immersed on his big mac. Harry wishes they'd go back to being good friends, him and Louis.

Niall makes his way to his best mate. "You alright, Haz?" he asks him when he is standing by his side. "You took quite the fall."

"I'm alright." Harry lowers his head in shame, heaving a big sigh. "Sorry about our food."

Watching the employee dump his large fries and chicken nuggets onto the rubbish bin, Niall has to admit that he is a bit sad, but he supposes that when you are friends with one Harry Styles, you must be ready to face such situations in life and learn to not get so upset over it. So, he shrugs and ruffles Harry's hair. "It's fine, H. I'm sure Ellie can get me another order of large fries with her employee discount."

This sends Harry further into his shame, his shoulders slouching even lower. "I'm such an idiot," he mumbles sadly.

Zayn cannot take it anymore. A sad Harry is a no-no to him. It makes his heart ache. "I'll replace everything," he blurts out without thinking. "What did you get? I'll buy them."

Two sets of eyes - baby blue and emerald green - stare at him in surprise. Zayn chuckles awkwardly, pushing his hair back as a gesture of nervousness. "My treat, yeah?" he tacks on.

Niall laughs and shakes his head. "Nah. We're good, Zayn," he winks at the dark-haired lad, smirking knowingly. "Thanks for the offer, though."

Harry smiles shyly at Zayn, nodding. "Yeah, it's fine, Z-Zayn."

Zayn is at a loss for words in the face of a real smile from his pretty nerd. He ends up speechless and blinking rapidly.

Deciding to take pity on the awestruck Zayn, Niall clears his throat with purpose, patting Harry's back. "Well, I better go and order because I'm starving. Find us a table, Haz. I won't be long."

Obediently, Harry waves goodbye to Zayn and wanders to an empty table. He sits down without so much as a glance at his acquaintances, his broad shoulders slumped in defeat. It takes everything in Zayn's power not to run to him and proclaim his adoration for the boy. He settles for shrugging and then saying goodbye to Niall.

"Thanks for earlier, mate," Niall tells Zayn quietly, smiling. "You did good."

Zayn's heart swells. He knows he is on the right track now, if Niall sounds like he is pleased with what Zayn has done. "It was nothing. I didn't even have to think twice to know what to do."

Again, Zayn's words are rewarded with a grin. Then, Niall is walking off towards the counter. Zayn drags himself back to where his friends are, smiling in satisfaction.

"That was some heroic act, Z," Liam gushes. In Zayn's head, he imagines that his mate has hearts for his eyes. "Although, you could have used that moment to confess to him."

"Can you stop pushing Zayn towards rejection, Liam?" Louis huffs irritably. He is always so crabby when it comes to Harry and Zayn's schoolgirl crush on him. "I'd rather not hear him whine and cry like a baby when he gets dumped."

Not again, Zayn mentally sighs. He thinks with the rate that Liam and Louis are going at it, he might as well be friends with a dog and a cat - same petty fights but without the verbal lashings. He fervently hopes that Liam will not offer anymore rebuttal to cut this growing feud short, but he isn't so lucky because it seems like Liam is in the mood to bicker with Louis today.

"I think you're just jealous that Zayn might have a better chance at being Harry's boyfriend than you did."

"What?"

"If that's the case then you, mate, are a shitty friend. Zayn deserves to be with Harry. He doesn't need your attitude and-"

"What the fuck are you on about, you little shit? I am not jealous of-"

Between Liam's accusation and Louis's denial, an idea pops into Zayn's head. Quietly, he sneaks out of their table, pointedly ignoring the escalating volume of Louis and Liam's squabble. He knows that it'll only be a matter of time before they both get booted out of Mcdonald's and he's glad that he won't be there to witness it. He is not worried about them, though, because this is exactly how weirdly strong their friendship is. They fight and argue alot, but at the end of the day, they are still the best of friends.

Zayn stops at a particular store inside the mall. With one goal in mind, he steps inside and heads straight to where the shirts are. He goes through their small collection of band shirts and gets a bit disheartened by the stunning lack of a Rolling Stones one. So, he picks out a black AC/DC tee in Large instead, pays for it and rushes back to Mcdonald's.

Luckily, Niall and Harry are still inside the fastfood chain, eating and conversing with each other. Zayn looks around and is not able to spot his own friends. With a sigh, he tugs his mobile phone out of his pocket and sends Liam a quick text to let them know where he is and to not go home without him.

So as to not attract any suspicions towards him, especially with how he plans to wait until Harry goes to the loo to leave the gift, Zayn hides behind a pillar a few steps away from Mcdonald's and puts his cap properly (he has it on backwards). However, there's a text from Liam that is posing a problem to his plans.

**_Z, prob m8. Tommo nids 2go home nw. His mum wanst him 2 bbsit._ **

Liam and his typos and weird text lingo. Zayn groans. There goes his brilliant plan. He doesn't have enough money to pay for a cab and he is too lazy to take the bus home so he has no choice but to ride with the two. He glumly types a reply and looks around for something to help him get the gift to Harry.

**_Give me 5 more minutes. Need to do something._ **

Liam answers instantly. **_Gotcha!_**

Two young boys of around 10 or 11 years old pass by Zayn at that exact moment, laughing loudly on their way to Mcdonald's. Zayn pushes himself off of the pillar, which he is leaning against, and approaches them. He is really desperate to give the gift to Harry because the younger boy needs it.

"Hey, lads."

The kids eye him suspiciously and start walking faster.

"Wait up!" Zayn calls out loudly. "I really need your help."

"Sorry, mister, but my mum told me not to talk to strangers," the taller of the two boys say, one hand pressed on his friend's back, guiding him to their destination.

"My mum did, too," Zayn says. He is a step away from the boys, his hand outstretched. "But, I'm desperate for help. Please."

The kids slow down a bit at that. Zayn takes it as his cue to explain.

"You're heading to Mcdonald's, right? I have a friend inside. He slipped on something earlier and dropped soda all over himself-"

The shorter boy snickers loudly at Harry's earlier mishap, causing Zayn to pause.

"And yeah. He's all sticky now. I bought him a shirt but he's still eating and I have to go. I was wondering if you lot can hand it to him?"

Kid number one - taller of the two - spins around to look into Zayn's eyes, probably to gauge the authenticity of his words. He looks highly skeptical, but when Zayn offers the bag with the shirt, he grabs it.

"My brother likes this store," he mumbles, his gray eyes appearing misty.

"Calvin or Tyler?" the other asks.

"Tyler."

The friend looks sad, somehow. "Ah."

Zayn coughs into his fist. "So, erm, will you help me give it to my friend?"

The gray-eyed boy nods. "Sure. What does he look like?"

Breathtaking, Zayn thinks to himself. Unreal with his jade eyes, porcelain skin and pink mouth. "He has long, curly hair and green eyes."

"I thought he's a boy?" The shorter kid asks, confused. "How come his hair is long?"

"Kief, long hair is not only for girls, you know," the other patiently explains, making Zayn smile.

"Yeah, and he's tall," Zayn adds. "He's also wearing glasses. It's hard to miss him."

"Okay. What do we tell him?"

Zayn's phone rings then and when he checks it, Liam's name flashes across the screen. It looks like Zayn's time is up. "His name is Harry. Tell him to change into this shirt because he'll get sick if he stays in his wet one," he tells the boy. "Thank you so much for this, yeah? Here."

Well, what do you know, Zayn still has a bit of money left on him. Five quid is pushed into the shorter kid's hand and then Zayn is answering his phone, wincing when Louis screeches at him from the other end of the line. He jogs towards the escalators in a hurry. "I'm coming, Lou. Just shut up. I'm walking already!"

The two boys shrug and enter Mcdonald's. On their way to the counter, they immediately spot a lad matching the stranger's description. They approach him.

"Hi, are you Harry?"

Niall and Harry exchange glances. Harry blinks and then, ever so slowly, nods. "Erm, yeah, I am. How do you lads know my name?"

"The guy outside told us," the kids tell him.

Immediately, Harry looks outside; there's no one outside the restaurant, only people who are walking by. "What was his name?"

The boys look at each other, shaking their heads, and then back to Harry. "He forgot to tell us because he was in a hurry."

Niall frowns, worried for the safety of these kids. "Okay, but didn't your mums tell you that it's not good to talk to strangers?"

"Yeah, but he sounded sad," the kid with the brown eyes says. "He said he needs our help to give this to Harry."

The gray-eyed boy hands the paperbag over to Harry, smiling. "Also, he wants us to tell you to change into that because you'll get sick with your wet shirt."

Realization hits Niall and he cackles in his seat. This has Zayn's handprint all over it. That lad.

"Oh, that's...nice?" Harry mumbles, opening the bag to see a nicely folded shirt. He pulls it out to see an AC/DC logo printed in front of the shirt. Despite the strangeness of the situation, he smiles. "He's very thoughtful."

The kids nod eagerly.

"What does he look like?" Niall prompts, looking like someone who knows something important about the situation at hand.

"He's handsome," Gray eyes says, eyebrows scrunched up adorably. "He's wearing a hoodie, jeans and a cap."

"I wonder who it could be," Harry whispers to himself, having absolutely no idea who has given him such a thoughtful gift.

"Thank you lads for the help." Niall pats the young boys' heads and grins at them. "Next time, though, don't talk to strangers, yeah? Some of them might not have the best intentions in mind."

"Yes, Sir!" The kids chorus, saluting.

"Now, run along. Go back to your mums or something."

"Bye, Harry! Bye, Mister Blond!"

"Bye bye. Thank you!" Harry waves at the boys, watching them skip to the counter and order food.

Niall cackles once again, smirking at Harry. "So, any idea who your stalker is?"

"Shut up, Niall."


	4. Chapter 4

"Zayn?"

Looking up from his plate of eggs, toasts and turkey bacon, Zayn raises an eyebrow in question. "Yeah, mum?"

"According to the weather report this morning, a heavy downpour is to be expected this afternoon," Trisha warns her only son, pouring more orange juice into his half-full glass. "Bring your raincoat and an umbrella, alright?"

Zayn thanks her softly and nods. "Okay, mum. I will."

"Good. Now, finish your breakfast before Louis gets here." Trisha smiles at Zayn and reaches out to ruffle his perfectly styled hair.

Zayn squawks indignantly and leans away from his mother's hands. He pouts playfully at her giggling figure. He wants nothing more but to run his fingers through his hair, to fix it, alas, his fingers are coated in grease. "Not my hair, mum," he whines.

Trisha pats his cheek as she passes him by on her way to the sink. "Lighten up, honey," she coos. "It still looks the same. Still, erm, tall."

Zayn can see his mum's shoulder's shake in repressed laughter and couldn't help but grin despite himself, grateful that she's happy and content with her life. Zayn lives for things like this: his mum's tinkling laughter, gentle pats on the shoulder from his dad and his sisters' smiles. His family is his ultimate source of happiness.

However, these past few months, a certain someone outside of his family circle is making Zayn's heart soar and his belly flip with just a passing glance. The split second sight of bright green eyes behind thick glasses and messy long hair is enough to instantly invite a swarm of butterflies to frolic inside his stomach, leaving behind a warmth so different from what his family gives him.

Zayn is pretty sure that he is harboring some serious affections for Harry Styles; an adoration so strong that has Zayn hooked and aching for reciprocation. Every single time Zayn sees Harry, he feels this strong tug, urging him to spill his guts, to proclaim his best intentions. Zayn is nothing but a coward, though, unable to look into Harry's lovely eyes and lay down the truth of his affections. Instead, for a long time now, he has taken the easy way out to be noticed by the younger boy - by bullying him. Zayn is ashamed and wishes nothing more but to have, at least, a minute of courage to confess to Harry, consequences be damned.

"Sunshine?"

Trisha's voice is the first to break Zayn out of his thoughts. It is then followed by incessant car honks, undoubtedly by one Louis Tomlinson. Zayn sighs in exasperation and smiles apologetically to his mum for zoning out on her. "Sorry, mum. I was thinking about, uh, things."

"I can tell," Trisha teases. She picks up Zayn's plate, silverware and glass. "Go on, love. I think Louis is in a hurry. He's been honking his car horn for minutes."

Zayn rolls his eyes and washes his hands before grabbing his backpack. "He's just messing with me, mum," he says matter-of-factly, kissing Trisha's cheek as goodbye before heading to their front door. He pauses by the coat rack to pick up his waterproof jacket and an umbrella. Then, he deliberately takes his time in putting on his trusty combat boots so as to get back and annoy Louis.

"About time," Louis huffs when Zayn slides into the passenger seat of his urano grey 2003 Volkswagen Polo. "I've been waiting out here for ages."

"Drama queen," Zayn mutters to himself, throwing his bag onto the backseat. He checks his hair on the sunvisor vanity mirror and is relieved when not a strand is out of place in his immaculate quiff.

Louis grumbles something and starts to back out of the Malik's driveway. "I saw the bloke who is always with Harry. He's standing infront of the house right across yours. He wasn't kidding when he said you were neighbors," the older of the two says after some time, glancing at Zayn, who is currently fiddling with the radio.

"Hmm," Zayn hums in response, settling for the station that is playing _Sweet Child of Mine._ He starts to play along to the wicked intro of the song using an air guitar, his fingers miming some plucking and strumming in thin air. "Why didn't you invite him to ride with us?"

"I actually did," Louis answers, sounding surprised himself. "He declined, though. His dad is driving him to school on his way to work."

"Ah," Zayn nods.

Half an hour later, with only a quick stop for gas and convenience store coffee, Zayn and Louis have arrived in school. Not in the mood to trail after Zayn on his morning pursuit of Harry Styles, Louis wanders on his own, choosing to spend his time on the field. On the other hand, Zayn's feet immediately bring him to where Harry's first class is.

Quietly, Zayn sneaks inside the empty classroom and goes to where Harry usually sits. He rummages through his backpack and triumphantly pulls out a labeled CD. It's a mixtape that Zayn has made with carefully chosen songs, which will hopefully send the message of Zayn's ever-growing affections to Harry. He gently lowers the CD and its case on top of Harry's desk before getting a small journal that is filled to the brim with sketches of Harry's eyes and collarbones, which are Zayn's most favorite parts of Harry's body, and the lyrics for the songs. Zayn is aware that his gifts are cheesy and cliché as fuck, but he is long past caring. All he knows is that he wants Harry to feel special, to know that someone out there is thinking of him and his smiles.

"What is happening to me?" Zayn huffs with a laugh, rubbing a hand across his face. "I'm getting cheesier by the minute."

Almost like déjà vu, Zayn's head snaps towards the door as it opens slowly. With a start, he scrambles as quietly as he can to the teacher's desk, hiding underneath it. A few seconds later, he hears light footsteps echo inside the classroom, a rich hum coming from the person walking inside. It's Harry.

"Not again." Zayn hears Harry moan in annoyance. There is a soft thud of Harry's bag hitting his chair and then a clatter, the scrape of hard plastic against wood, letting the older lad know that Harry has picked up the CD. He waits with bated breath for Harry's reaction.

There's soft rustling of paper as Harry goes through the sketches and lyrics next. "I pity the person who left this journal. If this one's mine, I will never just leave it lying around," Harry mumbles out loud, sounding genuinely curious. "These drawings are too good."

For a second there, Zayn's chest swells with pride at Harry's indirect compliment. But then, his mind catches up to Harry's prior statement and his eyes open wide, mouth agape, because _what?_ Harry cannot possibly be this dense to not know that those eyes are _his._ Sure they are not colored in, so it's a bit hard to tell that they belong to the curly-haired lad, but still, assuming that Harry has looked into the mirror everyday, he'd recognize his own eyes even if they are not colored in. Right?

Yeah.

Zayn is sulking and he definitely has earned the right to do so. Why is Harry Styles so difficult to woo?

"Hmm, a mixtape...in a CD? Nice," Harry murmurs. Again, Zayn tries hard not to just drop himself onto the floor and throw the biggest tantrum ever. He is so frustrated - and hopelessly endeared - with his adorably naive Harry.

The door slides open again and Zayn pushes himself further against his corner of the teacher's desk in an attempt to not be seen by either of the lads. He hears Harry's classmate bid him a good morning greeting, which the young lad returns cheerfully. Zayn adjusts himself so he is sitting comfortably underneath the wooden desk and starts eavesdropping on the ongoing conversation.

"Hey, Jace?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"You wouldn't happen to know who owns this journal, right?"

"Journal?"

"Yes and a mixtape. In a CD."

Zayn hears the guy approach Harry, his footsteps loud and dragging. Then, "Sorry, bro. I don't know the owner of any of those."

There's resignation in Harry's tone when he responds. "I wish I know who is leaving their stuff on my desk."

The other guy snickers. "These songs are terribly of the romantic kind, I might throw up," Jace says. "Whoever left this is in love."

"It's so annoying," Harry continues and his words are like daggers to Zayn's fragile heart. "Whoever they are, why do they keep leaving their things on my desk, my locker, pratically everywhere? And, I don't know what to do with them."

Harry's classmate sighs. "You'll figure it out soon enough, Harry."

"I hope so."

"For now, just keep those things, yeah? Maybe someone will look for them or something."

"Alright. Thanks, Jace."

"No problem, mate."

The two students then turn quiet and Zayn exhales softly, a frown on his face. It seems like his efforts are heading towards the wrong direction with Harry and he needs a new tactic. Desperately, Zayn ignores the little voice inside his head, which sounds exactly like Liam, telling him that he should just confess to Harry. The last thing that Zayn wants is to be rejected by his pretty nerd. Nope. He is not ready for that kind of pain in his life and so soon, too. Zayn knows that he needs more time.

Soon enough, more students enter the room, their loud chatters disrupting the silence that Harry and his other classmate has. Zayn checks his watch and sees that it is almost time for his first period class. Suddenly, he is reminded that another late in his Chemistry class will mean another meeting with the principal and that is something that he doesn't want to go through again. So, slowly, he peeks out of his hiding area and checks the door to see it wide open. He crawls out from under the desk and heads towards the entrance, thankful for the fact that Harry is seated a few rows back and will most likely not see his escape. With only a few feet away from the door, Zayn feels a triumphant smile force its way onto his lips. Sadly, during that exact moment that he is out of the room, Niall comes into view, eyeing Zayn's figure on all fours.

"Zayn?"

Shit. Zayn scrambles to stand up, playing it cool, and runs a hand through his hair. He nods at Niall. "Hey, mate."

Niall smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. "What were you doing down there?"

"Just." Zayn pauses and looks inside the room, embarrassment warming his cheeks when he sees Harry's curious green eyes among the sea of gazes. "Crawling around?"

A burst of laughter escapes Niall's mouth. "Yeah, right," he huffs once he has calmed down. Niall steps inside the room, waves at his confused best friend and then walks back out, pulling Zayn with him. They stop a few feet away from the classroom.

"So, what did you get him today?" Niall asks Zayn, his eyes wide and curious. Zayn imagines a tail wagging behind him because he looks like an excited pup.

"I gave him a journal with sketches of his eyes and, erm, a mixtape," Zayn answers. And because he has heard Harry say it earlier, he adds, "In a CD."

Niall looks pleased. "Awesome," he breathes out. Then, he smirks. "He's wearing the shirt you gave him last Sunday, by the way."

Zayn's heart flutters and goosebumps appear across his skin. He couldn't help but smile widely, delighted beyond words. He resists the strong urge to go up to Harry and see him wearing the tee that Zayn has picked out for him. "Really? How did you know it was from me?"

"Seriously? Zayn, I'm not as oblivious as my best mate. The second those kids told us that this handsome bloke in jeans and a hoodie wants to give this shirt to Haz, I immediately knew it was you, because who else would be the one to do so?" Niall exclaims with an amused chuckle. Then, he says, "So...you don't have any flowers for him today? Red roses? More chocolates perhaps, but dark ones?"

Zayn shakes his head, almost laughing at Niall's excitement. "Just those for today. I wanted to let him know that someone fancies him." He blushes at that, a bit uncomfortable talking to his crush's best mate about his affections. Somehow, though, Niall makes it easy to do so, despite his blatant dislike of Zayn, which he has had no qualms of informing Zayn, days ago.

The Irish lad eyes Zayn thoughtfully and then chuckles, patting Zayn's shoulder gently. "Mate, just an advice, yeah? If you truly like Hazza, tell him. Not gonna lie, but he's really bad at stuff like this, proper blind, mate, despite being at the top of our class. You need to spell it out to him for him to be able to get it, you know?"

Zayn nods. "I thought you, uh, didn't want me to tell Harry about...this?"

The friendly, kind look on Niall's face turns serious, a bit wistful. "At first," he admits. "But, you're an okay lad, proper ace, and you seemed genuinely interested in him, especially last Sunday. I saw the way you look at him, like the sun shines out of his flat arse. I like it. It's cute. Plus, I realized that I can't coddle Harry forever. To me, he will always be the little brother that I've always prayed to have. But, he's well on his way towards the right age and I want him to experience life firsthand, because that's how he learns, right?"

Speechless, that is what Zayn is as of the moment. He is so amazed at how strong the friendship between Harry and Niall is. It's beautiful.

"Of course, if it comes down to it, I can always kick your sorry arse if you ever hurt a single strand of curly hair on Harry's head, yeah?" Niall adds with a wicked grin, his blue eyes bright. "So, if I were you, don't cause Harry any pain or you'll answer to me."

"I already told you, Niall. I will hurt myself first before hurting Harry," Zayn says sincerely.

Niall, once again, pats Zayn's shoulder before heading inside their classroom. "And I already told you to stop yapping and start doing, Zayn."

Around 4 in the afternoon, the light drizzle of rain that started during lunch break has become a full-fledged heavy downpour, just like what Zayn's mum has said. Accompanying the rain are strong winds that shake the trees and fat droplets of water that knock loudly against the windows of the school. Within the span of an hour, the water level is ankle-high and in fear of their students getting stranded by floods, the school principal has announced an early dismissal, much to the students' joy.

On his way to Louis's car, Zayn stops by the loo to relieve himself. He hears a soft voice pleading inside a cubicle.

"Gem, please," the familiar voice murmurs softly, desperation in the lad's tone of voice. He must not have heard Zayn close the door because he is still speaking quite loudly, like he knows no one is with him inside the stuffy room, so he can speak as loudly as he can. It's hard not to listen to him. "You know he lives on the other side of town. I can't possibly ask his dad to drive me home and if he does agree, I'd feel like I've taken advantage of them."

Tuning the boy out, Zayn does his business as quickly as possible because he knows how impatient Louis can be. When he is finished, he washes his hands on the sink. That is when the lad inside the cubicle comes out, sighing heavily.

It's none other than Harry Edward Styles, comfortably wearing the AC/DC shirt that Zayn has bought for him with his wild hair tied up in a high bun on top of his head. He looks so adorable and Zayn is over the moon for this opportunity to be in his presence, but he also tries to act as casually as possible. "Hey."

Harry's bowed head snaps up in an instant, his wide eyes catching Zayn's through the mirror. His lips quirk up in a smile. "Hi, Zayn."

"How're you?" Zayn asks as he turns the faucet off and puts his wet hands under the nozzle of the automatic hand dryer. Seconds later, warm air is being let out by the machine to dry Zayn's hands.

On the other hand, Harry drops his heavy bag onto the counter and sighs again. "I'm fine, I think."

Zayn grows concerned. "Is everything alright, Harry?"

Harry looks surprised that him and Zayn are actually having a proper conversation. "Not, erm, not really."

"What's wrong?" Zayn asks worriedly, eyebrows furrowed.

With a helpless shrug, Harry fiddles with the straps of his bag. "It's like raining hard, yeah? And I...my umbrella...its broken somehow. It doesn't open. Umm, and my sister she's still at work and wouldn't be able to pick me up until 5:30. It just...sucks."

The disappointment that Harry radiates is so intense that Zayn is this close to pulling his phone out to demand Louis to drive the younger lad home. However, he is aware of how destructive that idea is and holds himself back. Instead, Zayn finds himself saying, "Do you want to go home with me?"

The older of the two thinks nothing of what he has said until he notices Harry's reaction to it. He blushes furiously and holds both of his hands up. "That's not what I mean! I, erm, wanted to ask if you want me to accompany you home? Not, like, go home with me to my house, because that's just creepy and stalkerish, which I swear I am not! A stalker, that is. Also, I have an umbrella. It opens, unlike yours, and, uh, we can share it and...yeah, I'll stop talking now."

A slow smile spreads across Harry's lips and then a few heartbeats later, he is laughing heartily, head thrown back with his hand curled around his stomach. The sound of his laughter is so sweet and precious to Zayn that he puts a hand over his chest, right where his heart is, as if that will be enough to calm its frenzied beating.

Harry calms down and stares at Zayn with sparkling jade-colored eyes. "Who are you and what have you done with Zayn Malik?"

The crimson stain on the apples of Zayn's cheeks intensifies. "I'm still Zayn, you know."

"You seem different, somehow," Harry admits softly, smiling.

"A good different, I hope?"

Harry tugs on the ends of his shirt, pulling it down a bit. Despite being taller than Zayn by a couple of inches, Harry looks small in that moment, nervous and awkward. "Yes, of course."

Zayn leans his hip against the counter, facing Harry. "So, about my offer? What do you say?"

"It's tempting, but I can't possibly ask you to go out of your way home to accompany me," Harry tells Zayn. "I know you live across Niall's and that is on the other side of town. It's far from our place and if you go with me, you'll end up getting home late. I can't have that."

Zayn protests. "But..."

Harry shakes his head. "It's fine, Zayn. I appreciate the offer but I think I can just wait for my sister here. It's not that long of a wait, anyway."

Every single cell inside Zayn is screaming at him to argue more, to convince Harry to spend more time with him. However, he doesn't trust himself that much when it comes to not randomly blurting out that he fancies Harry. So, he says, "Well, alright. If you're sure?"

Nodding, Harry smiles at Zayn once more and turns back to washing his hands. "I'm sure. Thank you again for the offer."

"No problem." Zayn checks his phone and sees Louis's message.

**_Where r u? We have to go now. This rain is bonkers. Absolutely mad._ **

Zayn responds to Louis, saying he is on his way out and exits the loo, but not before bidding Harry a goodbye. Distracted by his own phone, Harry's greeting is a bit too quiet, hardly heard.

Zayn studies the younger boy one more time before making a detour to where the lockers are. He stops by the number that he knows by heart and looks around to check if someone might see him. Other than the school janitor, who is mopping up the floor, there are no potential witnesses to what he is about to do. Quickly, Zayn punches in the code for Harry's locker, having been able to acquire such a personal information with a few sweet words and charming smiles from the school's secretary. He pulls the door open and shoves his umbrella on top of Harry's books. He then snatches one of the pictures taped inside the metal compartment, uncaring that it has Niall and a pretty lady, who looks an awful lot like Harry, included in it. He then locks the door of the locker before hiding inside the empty classroom next to it, leaving the door ajar so he can hear what happens outside.

Zayn sends Louis a text, asking for a few minutes more. By reading Louis's reply, it is easy to tell that the older boy is probably pulling his most annoyed face even as he agrees. Zayn promises to treat him with pizza after this, just to make it up to his best mate.

Within a few minutes, Zayn hears the rattle of a metal door opening. This is it. Then, he hears Harry gasp out loud.

"An umbrella!" The boy says. "How did it get in here?"

Zayn chuckles quietly to himself, amused. Harry is such an adorable human being, talking to himself all the time.

"Anyway, not that I'm complaining! This is a blessing so whoever put this here, I'm eternally grateful. Now, I can wait for Gemma at that café down the street."

Zayn presses himself against the wall when he hears Harry lock his locker and then pass by his hiding place. Carefully and quietly, he sneaks out of the empty classroom and shadows Harry's every move. He watches the boy open the umbrella by the school front doors and winces when he sees that in his earlier haste, the umbrella that he has grabbed is Waliyha's. It is a shocking neon yellow color with massive hearts printed all over it; Zayn's thankful that he isn't the one who is using it right now. Louis will never let him live it down.

With a chuckle, Zayn waits until Harry disappears completely to join Louis at the car park. He throws his waterproof jacket on top of his head and runs through the empty lot towards his mate's car, splashing rainwater all over himself, particularly his jeans. Once he has reached Louis's Volkswagen, he wrenches the door to the passenger's seat open - thankful that it is unlocked - and slides inside with a huff.

"I thought you only give your nerd gifts every morning?" Louis inquires sourly, face pinched. He is obviously cranky because of how late Zayn is.

Zayn wears his seatbelt. "Harry doesn't have an umbrella, so I let him borrow mine."

Louis snorts as he starts the engine and backs out of the car park. "Borrow is such a strong word for what you do. Perhaps, left for him to take is better."

"Whatever, Louis," Zayn chuckles. Not even Louis's pissy attitude is enough to force him out of his good mood, which is definitely born out of his earlier interaction with Harry. He is also a little bit braver to confess because of Niall's gentle push and words of approval.

Perhaps, he'll get to it sooner than when he has originally intended to.

...And he finds that he isn't as scared of it as he used to be.


	5. Chapter 5

After a handful of meditations and heartfelt (albeit a tad unwilling) encouragements from Liam and Louis, Zayn is finally ready to tell Harry how he feels. It isn't easy and just thinking about it makes Zayn, the coolest of cool lad, want to throw up in his mouth. He's that nervous.

Currently, the three of them are inside Harry's first period classroom and, like how every situation with Harry starts, they are awaiting the boy's arrival to see his reaction as he finally figures out who keeps leaving him things. They are waiting for Niall, too, because the blond boy insists that he should be present to record a milestone in his best mate's life.

"You'll do great, Z," Liam cheers Zayn up, wearing his signature crinkly-eyed smile and two thumbs up. He pats Zayn's back in two quick successions and discreetly kicks the back of Louis's knees to nudge him. "Say something," Liam mouths to the eldest.

Louis looks put off, like he cannot be bothered to do so, but acquiesces anyway. Besides the indifferent facade that he keeps for show, deep inside, he is rooting for Zayn to succeed where he himself has failed.

"I'm sure Harry isn't that stupid to turn you down, Zayn," Louis says sincerely, wanting to make his friend feel less nervous. It's the least he can do, anyway, and he counts it as a win when Zayn's trembling hands stop and go steady.

A few moments later, the door opens with a bang, announcing an arrival. Zayn knows with confidence that it isn't his nerd because, like most of the things that Harry do, he opens the door slowly and quietly, not obnoxious and loud. He mentally pats himself on the back as Niall's excited blabber echo inside the room.

"Good morning, lads! It's a beautiful day, innit?"

Liam grins at Niall. "Yeah, mate. I reckon the sun wants to witness the day Zayner finally grew the balls to confess."

Louis guffaws and shares a crisp highfive with Liam and Niall. Zayn is horrified at the scene, thinking that he has unknowingly formed a trio, who are hell-bent on teasing and laughing at him and his misfortunes.

"Shut up, _mates_ ," the black-haired lad hisses, glaring at the three.

Liam whistles innocently, looking around the classroom like it's the bloody Museum of Modern Art.

Louis shrugs, terribly unapologetic.

Niall - so very different from them - beams. "My Hazza is all grown up," he cries dramatically, plopping down on the chair beside Zayn. He drapes a pale arm over his eyes. "Getting himself a proper boyfriend. Ugh. Nobody touch me, I'm emotional."

Despite being a tight bundle of nerves at the moment, Zayn cannot help but to laugh at Niall and his antics. The lad is extremely funny and loud, his presence commands your attention and, inevitably, your laughter. Unfortunately, the chuckling Zayn has to stop short, breath stuttering, when he hears the door being pushed slowly. Shit.

"Act natural," Liam whisper-yells and Zayn would have slapped his palm against his own forehead at their idiocy if he isn't experiencing the most frigid case of cold feet at the moment.

Harry cautiously enters the classroom, having heard the commotion going on inside way before he has reached the door. He grows confused once his green eyes set sight on the people currently occupying the seats, wondering what three seniors and his best mate are doing inside the room way before the bell rings.

"Erm, what's going on?" Harry asks, clutching his textbooks tighter against his chest.

Liam obnoxiously clears his throat and, like always, kicks Zayn's chair to get him to speak. Zayn yelps when he almost falls down and turns around to glare at Liam.

Unruffled, Liam glares back. "Do it," he whispers quite loudly.

Louis groans in his seat. "Oh, for fuck's sake!"

Meanwhile, Niall has his phone out, recording every second of this momentous event.

"Fine, I'll do it!" Zayn growls. He musters up all of his courage and holds Harry's gaze, a shaky smile on his lips. He stands up and approaches the confused boy. "Erm, hey, Harry. Did you listen to the, uh, mixtape?"

Harry's eyes widen into saucers. Realization hitting him hard. How else would Zayn know about that mixtape? Obviously, it is his.

"In a CD?" They both say at the same time. Zayn chuckles softly while Harry blushes deeply, embarrassed.

"You were the one who left those things on my desk?" Harry asks with a frown once he has recovered enough from the shame. "The journal and the CD?"

Zayn nods. "Yeah, I am."

Judging by Harry's reaction, it seems as though that is not the answer that he is hoping to hear because his frown deepens, eyes narrowing into suspicious slits. "Well, I don't have the things now. They're inside my locker, if you came here to pick them up."

"What, no!" Zayn exclaims, furiously shaking his head. He steps forward and tries to be more direct, just like what Niall has told him to do, saying, "Those things are yours."

"Huh? Why would they be mine? There's nothing on them that says so. Besides, the mixtape is made by someone who's in love," Harry explains. "No one likes me, let alone be in love with me."

This is it, the three onlookers behind Harry and Zayn simultaneously think to themselves. Zayn is going to do it; he will confess that he fancies Harry. Niall is so excited that his arm, which is holding up the recording phone, is shaking. Louis grabs Liam's hand in a vice-like grip, anticipation building inside him. Liam holds Louis's hand back, equally as tight.

Zayn feels bile creeping up his throat. Harry is too close, indescribably prettier in this distance, and it's so easy to get lost in his clear green eyes and tell him how much of a fool Zayn is for him. "I..."

A flicker of a dark emotion crosses Harry's eyes. Sadly, it is too quick for Zayn to catch but the dread that it leaves spreading in its wake is growing rapidly.

"Is this some kind of a joke?" Harry whispers quietly, head down. He has a trembling grip on his books, almost like he'll drop them at any second. He heaves a big sigh and then lifts his head to look at each occupant of the room. His eyes turn blazing in anger when he stares at Niall.

"Niall, you're actually in on this?" The curly-haired brunette scowls. He goes pale in the next second, swallowing with difficulty. "Did you t-tell him?"

Niall stops recording when he has sensed that things are not going so well. He puts his phone down and holds both of his hands up in surrender as he approaches Harry and Zayn. "Harry, you've got it all wrong," he says calmly. Inside, though, he's freaking out because one wrong word and this won't end happily. "Zayn...he's...uh."

"You did tell him!" Harry accuses his best mate. His bottom lip trembles and as much as Zayn wants to wrap him up in his arms, cuddle him until his sadness goes away, he merely looks on in confusion. It's quite obvious that the two juniors are hiding something from them and perhaps this is the moment that they will know what it is.

By now, Liam and Louis have let each other's hand go and are watching with apprehension, ready to step in if needed.

"Haz, I didn't..."

"Save it, Niall." Harry holds his hand up to stop Niall and sniffs. Niall obediently shuts up. Then, green eyes bore into Zayn's, intense and angered.

"What do you want, Zayn?"

It's all or never, Zayn thinks to himself. So, he lets all of his worries go. "You."

As soon as the word left Zayn's mouth, total silence drops on them, deafening. Harry's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets in shock while his hands lose their grip on his books and they scatter onto the floor. He shakes his head, pushing a hand through his hair and messing it up.

"It's too early for this," Harry mutters more to himself. He blows a loud breath and squares his shoulders. "Alright. Give me the punchline and I'll say it. C'mon, Louis, pull your phone out and record me, so we can all move along and forget this prank ever happened."

"Wait, you think this is a prank?" Zayn growls, rapidly losing his patience. "You think I'm so fucking cruel to do something as bad as this?"

Harry turns his nose up, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not impossible."

Their commotion is garnering audience now, some from the other classes, who have come to see what the shouting is all about, and some from Harry's first period. They are watching with rapt interest, wondering why the school paper's editor-in-chief and debate team president is having a war with words against the school's resident Greek god and talented artist.

"You're impossible!" Zayn throws his hands in the air, rolling his eyes. "I can't believe how dense you are."

Niall steps in between the two lads. "Hey, hey. Cut it out. Let's talk about this later, yeah? Classes are starting."

Harry glares at Niall, pushing at his shoulder, which leads to the blond stumbling a bit from the impact. "You're supposed to be my best mate. You were supposed to side with me and not conspire with others to prank me."

"Hazza, I'm not conspiring with them. They have perfectly good intentions, if you would just listen-"

"Stop being an idiot," Louis chimes in, obviously aimed towards Harry, which earns him a murderous look from Zayn.

"Shut up, Louis!"

Harry is offended by Louis's comment, pouting. "I'm not an idiot!"

"Lads, settle down." Liam tries to be the mediator, speaking calmly as he gently grabs Zayn's arm to pull him back. If this goes on, they'll be having not only students, but also teachers witnessing the squabble and he can't have his friends be further humiliated and scolded.

Zayn huffs, shaking Liam's grip off. "Why can't you just accept that I like you, Harry? Is it so hard to do so?"

A harrowing laugh is Harry's immediate response. "Now you are really taking the piss," he scoffs. "The Zayn Malik liking me? Harry Edward Styles? Where are the rolling cameras? The hidden crew?"

There's pain in Zayn's chest because this isn't how he pictured this day to go. Now, he knows how incredibly oblivious and stubborn Harry can be when he believes on something. He grits his teeth, mentally counting to ten in an attempt to calm down. "I'm being serious."

"So am I," Harry retorts flippantly. He points to Zayn then back to himself as if that is explanation enough. "I mean look at you! Now, look at me. Ridiculous, right?"

"Quit it! You're beautiful, Harry."

"Shut up, Zayn!"

"Why can't you just accept it?"

"Both of you, stop it!"

All eyes fall on the figure by the door, where Mr. Walsh, Harry and Niall's History teacher, is. He makes his way inside the classroom with a stern expression on his face. He stops right infront of the arguing boys, places his hands on his hips and asks, "What's happening here?"

Harry bends down hurriedly to pick his things up before he straightens up once more. "Nothing, Sir. I was just correcting a few of Zayn Malik's, erm, assumptions."

Mr. Walsh eyes Zayn with raised eyebrows. "Assumptions about?"

Zayn opens his mouth to answer for himself but Harry beats him to it.

"Just...things. Reality, you know."

The old man nods, satisfied. "Alright." Mr. Walsh claps his hands and motions for his students to settle down. "My dear students, sit down and we'll be starting our interesting class in a bit. As for those who do not belong to this class, kindly leave now before I file a report on you."

Hesitantly, Zayn, Liam and Louis leave the room with heavy hearts, deeming their first attempt as a big failure. The students then individually disperse and sit down on their respective seats. Harry shoulders past Niall, still fuming and hurt by the morning's events. He turns a cold shoulder to his best mate during the duration of the whole period, feeling terribly betrayed.

During their lunch break, Harry finishes his meal alone, having dodged Niall's numerous attempts at ammending things with him. After eating, he throws his wrappings and water bottle into the rubbish bins before making his way to his locker to change his books for the afternoon classes. Without any suspicions, whatsoever, he yanks his locker door open, only to get surprised by the sheer amount of colorful confetti that comes out. He gasps and hurriedly tries to push them back.

At that exact moment, the school intercom speakers crackle to life, a familiar smooth voice filtering through afterwards.

"I didn't know you hated milk chocolate and preferred dark ones. I'm sorry I gave you Pablo Neruda when you liked Rumi the best. Did you know what those pink carnations mean? Admiration, for one. I admire you so much. You're my courageous boy, so brave and kind and lovely. For years, I did nothing but pull you down, yet you keep your head high and your smile warm. Pink carnations also mean devotion and I'm telling you now, this foolish bloke is ardently dedicated to you in his own crappy way."

The voice pauses. For once, Harry catches on quickly, knowing that the voice is talking to him. Overwhelmed, Harry wipes his tears away and then pulls out the rest of the confetti inside his locker until he reaches the softest looking olive green knitted sweater awaiting him underneath a stuffed ink black bear wearing a t-shirt that says: _You're the beary best!_

Harry laughs through his tears.

"Remember that one Sunday afternoon at Mcdonald's? It's one of my fondest memories of you despite what...happened and I wanted to give you an exact replica of your soda-stained Rolling Stones shirt but the store that I went to wasn't selling any so I had to get the AC/DC one. I have to say, though, it looks good on you."

By now, curious students have started to gather along the hallway, listening to the voice on the speaker. A few of the girls present are making sounds of delight, squealing and cooing at the undeniably romantic gesture that is currently taking place, excitedly wondering who is the lucky person receiving such a grand act. Some, though, have caught on fast, eyeing the colorful mess of confetti on Harry's feet and the tear tracks on his face with interest.

"The journal is mine, yes. Thank you for thinking that my sketches are good. If you still cannot tell, those drawings are of your eyes, one of my favorite parts of your face before your lips, your nose or your cheeks or your eyebrows...Well, you get my point. You make such an inspiring muse."

A few moments later, emerging from the mass of bodies scattered in the halls, Niall approaches Harry with a sheepish grin, holding both of his arms out for a hug, which Harry readily accepts with an embarrassed whine.

"I'm sorry for being stupid."

Niall squeezes Harry gently. "You're not stupid. I don't want to hear you say that ever again," he scolds. "You're simply oblivious and I forgive you."

"I don't think I can look Zayn in the eyes, anymore. I'm so embarrassed by the things that I've said earlier."

"H," Niall laughs. "In case you still haven't noticed, Zayn fancies you. He's proper mad for you. Just apologize and he'd forgive you, yeah?"

Niall feels Harry nod against his neck. "Did you tell him?" the younger lad whispers softly.

"About your massive crush on him?" Niall replies just as quietly. "Nope. What kind of a best mate am I if I did?"

Harry pulls back and looks him dead in the eyes. "So, this is not a show? Some sort of a prank?"

Niall's joyful expression falls and he looks conflicted, also a tad exasperated. He opens his mouth to scold Harry when the younger's laugh cuts him off.

"I kid, I kid," Harry chuckles.

Their happy moment is interrupted by the rustle on the intercom and then the voice on the speakers is talking with urgency. "I don't have much time, Harry," he says. "So."

All eyes fall on Harry and he shrinks a bit under the attention.

"I like you, Harry, and I've liked you since the day you accidentally pushed me into the pool in gym class."

Laughter ensues all around and since their school is fairly small, half of the student body knows exactly what the lad is talking about. Up to this day, no one has forgotten about the moment that new student Harry Styles, in his nervousness, accidentally shoved Zayn Malik into the pool. It wouldn't have been so funny if it isn't for the fact that Zayn, dressed in his casual clothes - flannel, jeans and sneakers - and not swimming trunks, is not a part of the class, rather he's on community service, picking up the rubbish surrounding the pool. Zayn has emerged out of the pool drenched to the bones, his hair flat and his teeth chattering. Back then, Harry has been so mortified and is pretty unstoppable with his sincere apologies.

"I'm not taking the piss. This is not a prank. I like you, Harry. Please be my boy...Mr. Cowell! Give me two more minutes!"

The students all around Harry and Niall ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the apparent struggle between the school principal, Mr. Simon Cowell, and the now identified romantic, Zayn Malik. There's an audible scuffle with a bit of pleading and begging in Zayn's part. But then, it's Simon's voice that comes next.

"Sorry about that, students. Lover boy and his mates managed to trick me to get ahold of the school's intercom system, so. I apologize for cutting your entertainment short. I hope you've enjoyed that scene straight out of a romcom because there won't be any more of its kind soon. Like, ever. Anyway, have a good rest of the day, everyone. Go back to your rooms for the afternoon classes."

As the crowd of onlookers disperses, Niall pushes Harry towards the direction of the principal's office. "Go, Hazza," he encourages. "I'm sure Zayn is still there. Go and get him!"

Harry nods and turns to run as fast as he can, hoping fervently that he catches Zayn. In under five minutes, Harry has reached the school's main lobby, where Mr. Cowell's office is located. Panting loudly, his green eyes franticallly scan the area for a head full of inky black hair; he's not so fortunate.

With a sigh, Harry does a full turn once more and gets to the confirmation that, yes, Zayn is not here anymore, that he has lost a chance to be happier. He is about to trudge back to Niall, complain of his bad luck, when Louis calls out to him.

Harry spins on his heels to look back. There in the middle of the lobby is Louis Tomlinson. "Lou?"

"Hey," Louis smiles lightly, approaching the place where Harry is. "Looking for Zayn?"

Harry nods. "Yes, umm, where is he? Please, I...I need to know."

Louis stares at Harry, his icy blue eyes looking deep into determined green irises, searching. "Are you going to hurt him with your denseness again? Because if so, then, I'm afraid I can't tell you where he is."

Desperately, Harry shakes his head so quickly that it is almost dizzying. "I'm going to apologize and tell him that..."

With a teasing smile, Louis decides to play with Harry for a bit. "What?"

"That...I, umm, I...the feeling is- it's mutual."

"He's by the field," Louis tells him with a gentle pat on his head. "Under the bleachers. Zayn likes to smoke there."

Harry pulls Louis into an embrace, taking two fistfuls of the material of his shirt to pull him closer. "Thank you, Lou, and I'm sorry for what happened before."

Louis presses his cheek on Harry's shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's all in the past now," he responds softly. Then, he pushes the younger lad back, holding him by the shoulders. "Hurry up and talk to Zayn before he starts crying like a newborn."

Grinning widely, Harry nods and then he is off. Despite the fact that he is going to miss his afternoon classes by doing this, Harry doesn't care and passes through the halls in quick feet, running fast like he is being chased. He is buzzing with this sort of nervously excited energy, which is aiding in his movements, because, otherwise, he's akin to a turtle, slow. This is why in no time at all, he reaches Zayn, who is slumped on the grass underneath the bleachers.

"Zayn," Harry gasps through his erratic breathing. He bends over, hands on his knees, struggling to fill his lungs with some much needed oxygen. "Zayn, Zayn, Zayn."

Surprised golden eyes meet a loving green stare in this electric crash, a sharp inhale following after. "Harry?"

Harry drops to a kneel infront of Zayn. With reddened cheeks, the younger lad grabs both of Zayn's hands, enveloping them in his.

Out of instinct, Zayn turns his hands over to lace his fingers through Harry's. They fit perfectly.

Harry looks down at their intertwined hands with a smile. "Were you telling the truth earlier? That you, uh, l-like me?"

Zayn nods furiously. "Yes."

"W-well," Harry stammers, clearing his throat afterwards. He lifts his head and gazes into Zayn's hopeful eyes before leaning forward, his forehead pressed up against Zayn's with their lips a mere half an inch away from touching. "I...like you, too."

Zayn squeezes his hands tightly. "Honestly?" he breathes out, wanting to kiss Harry so badly. This is like a dream and if it is, he doesn't want to wake up from it, especially when Harry lets out a shy _yes_.

"Then, will you be my boyfriend?" Zayn asks, watching in awe as Harry closes his eyes, his eyelashes kissing his further darkening cheeks. God, he's all of Zayn's beautiful wishes materialized. "Because, that'll make me the happiest, you know?"

Harry wastes no time and pounces on Zayn, which makes them both topple backwards. The older of the two yelps in surprise, his fall cushioned by the soft grass, a solid, warm weight nuzzling against his chest. Zayn wraps Harry up in his arms and kisses the soft places that he can reach: the side of Harry's neck, behind his ears and his shirt-covered shoulder.

"Yes, Zayn, I'll be your boyfriend," Harry mumbles into Zayn's cheek, kissing and nuzzling the heated skin there. "There's nothing in this world that I want more than that."


	6. Epilogue

"I say you put it down now before H arrives," Louis mutters in his typical _I'm clearly the smart one between us_ tone of voice. He sighs loudly afterwards.

Zayn looks up from his careful study of the desk and how he should make good use of it for his gift, shushing his mate with a show of his middle finger. "Shut up, Louis."

Liam laughs at both of his mate's antics. He checks his watch and his eyes grow wide when he catches sight of the time. "Zayn, mate, I hate to break it to you, but Louis is right. Harry will be here any minute now."

"Of course, I'm right. I'm always right," Louis huffs. He stands up and leaves the room without another word. If sass had a solid form, it'll be Louis William Tomlinson.

Zayn shakes his head at Louis and, finally, places his gifts gently on top of Harry's desk. Fondly, he imagines how his lovely boy will react. He thinks of those pretty eyes crinkling at the corners and that mouth shaping up into any of his favorite Harry smiles. Briefly, he entertains the idea of skipping his Chemistry class in favor of watching Harry respond to his gift. That'll definitely make his day.

Beside Zayn, Liam is shaking his head. It seems as though he knows exactly where his mate's thoughts are leading him, so he clicks his tongue and grabs Zayn's arm. "Absolutely not, Z," he scolds. "One more absent and you are out of Mrs. Green's class, remember? You need Chemistry credits to graduate, remember?"

"But, Liam..."

"Nope, let's go."

On the way to their classroom, Zayn asks Liam. "You think Harry will like the gift that I left him?"

Liam snickers. "Oh, I bet he will just _eat_ it up," he cracks up loudly, thinking of himself as some form of pun God. He's hilarious!

Meanwhile, Harry enters his first period room merely a couple of minutes after Zayn and Liam has exited it. He walks quickly over to his desk, almost breaking out into a run, already expecting some sort of gift on top of it.

He is not disappointed because on top of his desk are two ripe bananas. They are not just any normal bananas, though. No. They each have a special message written on their yellow skins. The first banana says _I'm bananas for you_ while the second one has _Let's never split_ on it. Harry dissolves into unabashedly loud and merry laughter after reading the puns. Zayn is such a dork.

Well, _his_ dork.

 

 

 

 

__**T H E E N D**


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